


Cellular

by diametrical



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cellular AU, F/M, logan doesn't own a phone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6926341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diametrical/pseuds/diametrical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan gets an unexpected call from a stranger who claims she has been kidnapped. AU. Rogan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Line Between Smart and Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that disregards nearly all-chronological events in the x men universe, both comic and movie alike. Cellular AU.

“Get your ass in there. Now.”

The gun pointed at Marie’s temple. He knew from past experience not to touch her skin. The man was a gruff, 40 something male with a towering build, overlooking Marie by nearly two feet.

Tears clouded her vision of the room he was forcing her in, but she could very well see the gleam of the tools spread out on the tables; forceps, retractors, injection needles, tubes and the like.

When she didn’t take a step forward, the man shoved her inside, making her stumble in the process. Marie tried to stifle the sobs coming out as she crawled, using her arms to drag her body. The man pushed her to her side so she was lying on her back.

“Running away on your own, look how vulnerable you are,” he spat, and then continued to kick her into the direction of an isolated corner. “This is only a fraction of what you get for killing my best mate you fucking piece of shit.”

“It was an accident, he tried to touch me,” she reasoned, backing away on the floor. “I had to-“

“You think your mutation can protect you?” The place had only so much room; Marie was already backed up against the wall, legs gathered up to her chest. “At the end of the day, you’re gonna to end up just like the rest of ‘em mutant fuckers we caught.”

He grabbed the chains attached to the wall and pulled the metal shackles to her wrists and ankles, latching them according to her small size. He checked the durability of the chains by pulling them repeatedly; assuring himself that any form of struggle won’t let the precious toy get away.

“What-“ Marie tried to keep her voice from shaking. “…what do you want with me?”

He grinned, the kind that made Marie regret asking. “Doctor Bolivar Trask is a lovely man. He’s going to be very interested in you.”

Whoever he was, the mere mention of his medical title made the hair on her skin rise. Doctors treated mutants the same way scientists took care of lab rats. To them, they were nothing more than a contribution to an experiment. Every murdered life of her kind was considered nothing more than an innovative step towards science.

But right now, Marie had seen nothing scarier than this man who showed off a golden tooth on his lopsided grin. Now that he was this close, she was almost tempted to peel off her gloves, slam them on his godforsaken face and put an end to his life.

Back then; she had never tried to touch someone with the intention of hurting them. She had always kept a reserved behavior, always wary of the possibility that her poisonous skin could endanger someone’s life.

The world will always isolate itself from her as long as they viewed her skin a deadly disease, an incurable curse. She had come to accept that as well. Anyone who came close had always ended up hurt. It wasn’t enough that she ran away for her parent’s convenience so they wouldn’t have to deal with their untouchable freak for a daughter.

It was just that no one understood it was always worse on her part. Her power may have allowed her to absorb lives, but in truth, it drained from her the only life she had come to know, and by the looks of her situation, she knew she’d never live the same way again.

Everyone she touched would give her a fragment of their memories and dreams; mostly fleeting images that wake her up in the middle of the night with a scream not far from her lips. She refused to sleep most nights, too frightened to witness horrifying visions again and again.

It was an awful package deal. She knew that all too well.

The silence broke when something started ringing. Marie flicked her eyes over to inspect the room and caught sight of a telephone post hanging on the wall, not far from her.

The man stood up to answer the call. Before doing so, he raised a hand up as if to hit her, and Marie’s head was quick to reel back from the threatening gesture, but his hand stopped mid air. Seeing how terrified she was of his slightest movements only made him laugh at how much power and control he had.

Snorting hysterically, he grabbed the handset and greeted the caller. “Hey, how’s it going big guy? You found ‘nother one?”

He gave Marie a side-glance. “Healing’s an interesting mutation, but it ain’t got nothin’ on this soul sucking southern doll we got here.”

There was a pause, but by the sour glare on his face, it didn’t seem like the caller reported good news. “What the molly fuck do you mean you let him get away? What? No, stay there. I’ll get us another truck and pick you up. We’ll catch him ourselves.”

He slammed the phone with an angry hiss of _goddamn it._

He was about to leave the room when he stopped in his tracks. He took one glance at the telephone, and coursed around the room to dig the corners for tools.

“And just in case you get any ideas…” She watched him take out an axe and hover it just above the telephone. With a rough swing, the axe collided with the post and shattered it to bits, landing near her ankles. The handset was in two pieces and the cords were all haywire.

“Forget it.”

He proceeded to leave, but called over his shoulder. “You can try screaming, shouting, calling for help. But there isn’t anybody here who’s going to hear and give a shit.”

The door slammed with a thwack and Marie quickly tried to stand up with the little room the chains gave her, but it was no use.

Marie sat staring into a void of darkness. _Oh god, what’s going to happen to me?_ She buried her face in her hands, quietly murmuring words of false hope. She didn’t know what they did to people like her, but she could almost hear the tortured screams of past captives who have been taken to this room before. Marie had always preferred being alone all her life, but now that the solitude had outstayed its welcome, she needed nothing more than to hear someone beside her telling her that everything was going to be alright.

Tears spilled down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut. The empty space amplified her deafening sobs and whimpers, and at the same time the silence felt so loud in her ears. It was an invisible force that kept screaming she was alone, and that there was absolutely no hope of getting help. Marie kept crying until--

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Followed by a slur of words and radio frequencies making soft electronic noises.

Marie looked on her right and saw the shattered bits of the telephone near her feet. How impossibly lucky was that? The cords were still somehow working. The handset was still miraculously linked to the wires.

It had hit her with sudden clarity. There was a way out. She could still get herself out of here alive.

She pulled herself together this time. She took a long, deep breath, the throbbing in her head subsiding as her mind was soon preoccupied with critical thinking.

If she could manage a connection by clicking the tips of the broken wires together, maybe it could dial a random number and she could ask for help. Marie could only hope that out of a million combination sets, she would have the unbelievable luck to land on one right.

She wriggled her way to the telephone, the chains rattling as she picked up wires connected on the handset. She placed on her shoulder what was left of the receiver and tilted her neck to fit it beside her ear.

Marie straightened the ends of the cord, hoping to get an electrical circuit running smoothly. She started to work.

_Click. Click. Click_

The wires sparked a buzz. She heard a monotonous response.

_The number you dialed is either unattended or out of coverage area. Please try again later._

_Damn it._

Well at least she knew the wires were dialing numbers. Marie returned to work at the cords again.

_Click. Click. Click._

_The number you dialed-_

* * *

She had been clicking forever.

Marie was about to give up when a momentary buzz interrupted the electronic drone on the receiver. When she realized it was finally ringing on the other end, she dropped both wires and desperately clung both hands on the receiver.

She knew she couldn’t lose the connection this time, not when it had only been a miraculous fluke to finally reach someone, and her life would depend on whoever that ‘someone’ will be.

She couldn’t help but squeak a sound of joy when she heard a phone pick up. Her heart dropped when she heard a response.

“What the hell do you want?”

 


	2. Monsters and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the responses! I'm surprised I'm on time with the update, but don't get used to it. Enjoy!

“Who’s gonna be our next challenger?”

 

Logan circled the stage, smoking puffs of his cigar in celebration of defending his title.

 

“Come on! Are you folks really gonna to let this son of a bitch take all your money away?” The host had climbed on stage to quell the shouts of the upset audience. No one could figure out how Logan managed to battle several different challengers and make it through without even a single scratch.

 

The host waved a few hundred bucks hoping to persuade them in to the taking. A man from the crowd stood up with an arrogant declaration of “I’ll fight him!” He shook off his jacket, revealing an impressive girth on his arms and shoulders, and a physique built to take a lot of hits. “Never lost a fight before.” The people cheered, delighted there was hope of getting a profit from their money.

 

Logan could smell his eagerness for a kill, a pungent odor that was distinctively strong. “Not that you need to know, but I just feel the need to tell you that big guy’s killed about four men in his past cage fights.” The host warned him.

 

The ‘big guy’ entered the cage and cocked his eyebrow. 

 

“Name?” The host inquired after slipping inside the ring.

 

“Paul Gibbons.” Logan cracked his knuckles at his adversary and gave him a side-glance; Paul was hairy in all the wrong places and not a strand of it was on his head.

 

“Careful, old man. I might just take it easy on you.” The amount of rounds Logan had gone through should have worn him out by now. Seeing his work cut out for him, Paul grinned at the anticipation of an easy win.

 

Logan leaned against the cage, ignoring the raucous hoots and insults. Threats felt so numb now. He didn’t care about the countless number of goons that stepped into the cage and left with only a remaining inch of their life. He didn’t care about the crowds he’s entertained. He didn’t care about any of them.

 

It was easy to take no regard of everybody else when you’re disconnected from the world, a situation he’s used to. After all, he’s a mutant in a society where the humans consider their more evolved kin an inherent abomination. Everyone loathed him, feared him.

 

That in mind, he no longer had any regard for a family or a home. But really, it was easier this way. An unsocial life only meant he had no one to lose. And nothing to fear.

 

Fifteen years living in solitude left him detached from anything a normal person would consider a sentimental necessity.

 

It wasn’t a sad case of isolation. He just liked it that way. Logan looked out for Logan. Anyone else was at his disposal. Anyone else couldn’t be trusted. Ever since the discovery of mutants, the world divided itself into a fine line, and he knew he was implicitly cast out on the other side.  The sooner he realized it, the more he’s accepted the life he had chosen to live out on his own.

 

That was precisely why cage fighting was the best option for a career. It was work free from commitments and demands of a normal life. Although he hated being used as a moneymaker to benefit someone else’s pocket, but cage fighting was the only way he could ever let out all the anger and frustration without his claws exposing him to trouble. 

 

He took a fresh smoke of his cigar and tossed it, landing near the foot of the host, whom he caught giving him a snide grin. _Of course that bastard’s pleased,_ Logan thought. That host was going to take home a lot of cash tonight, courtesy of his unparalleled strength.

 

At the sound of the bell, the challenger lunged with fists raised to Logan’s dome. Logan expertly dodged and in one fluid motion, he landed a direct punch on the torso and a powerful shot on the chin. Paul staggered back and fell, vision clouded from shock.  He held on to the ropes, trying to recover from getting the breath punched out of his lungs. 

 

He could’ve sworn it wasn’t flesh that collided with his face.

 

The crowd booed and hissed, yelling at him to get back on his feet and finish the champion. He shook his head and attacked Logan again, eagerly swinging an arm to the head and miraculously landing a hit on his left cheek, making Logan stumble and hit the wall of the cage.

 

Paul grinned, satisfied with payback. The crowd cheered him on as he lifted his arms up in a short-lived triumph. 

 

Logan reeled his head back from the blow. “That all you got, bub?” He growled, before surging forward and throwing a demolishing uppercut at Paul’s unguarded head, knocking him stunned on the ground.

 

In the same instant they cheered him on, the crowd straightaway booed at Paul’s defeat. He couldn’t find the strength in him to stand up. The impact was unbelievably strong.

 

That was the last fight of the night. Logan began to retreat from the ring, impatient to leave the tough crowd.

 

Paul curled in a fetal position, wincing at the pain. “You’re a fucking freak!” he yelled. “No one takes a beating like that without a bruise to prove it.”

 

Logan turned his head and pulled out a cigar from his pocket to pop into his mouth. “Is that an excuse you tell yourself now that your face looks like bloody shit?”

 

“Go to hell you bastard!” He yelled.

 

Logan paused, inhaling the cigar and puffing out a smoke. “Already been.”

 

“We ain’t done you hear me?! Don’t walk away from me you fucking—“ His desperate stubborn threats faded as Logan proceeded to exit the ring towards the host to collect his money.

 

But he could tell it wouldn’t be the last he’d see of Paul. 

* * *

 

 The woman was giving him that look.

 

She was in her late twenties, red hair with an orange glow and an alluring swallow tattoo on her cheekbone. She was eyeing him from across a shadowed corner, enticing him to perch on the stool next to her, or rather, share hers.

 

Logan figured he had slept with her, probably on several late night occasions. He couldn’t remember her name, though. Probably Emma. No, Emma was Wichita. Lisa? No, that was San Jose.

 

He shrugged and drank another shot. It didn’t matter. Their names never mattered to him. All the women he encountered were all just part of a vicious cycle of flirt, fuck and leave. There wasn’t anyone who kept his interest long enough. Hell, he couldn’t make a reliable commitment.

 

But while he wasn’t on stage beating the shit out of someone, they were a pleasant distraction. At least, before he hits the road again.

 

Logan was always moving. He didn’t know if he was looking for someone or running from something but he knew he didn’t like staying in one place. He never really had a place to call home, so that sentiment kept him on a mobile reserve.

 

Besides, there was nothing in these towns that was a reason for him to stay, a reason for him to come back to. When you’ve lived a life without knowing a fraction of who you were, it never felt right to just settle down.

 

He figured he had to rid himself the doubts of his past. _He needed to find himself somewhere._

_“Where the fuck is he?”_

 

Logan stopped his line of thoughts when his highly attuned senses caught a familiar scent; an overwhelmingly powerful stench of conceit and hatred, but now spiked with revenge.

 

Even without looking, scent alone could let him pinpoint the people around him. He knew the smell of leather-clad bikers who have gone days without showering, women with their alluring perfumes on a night out, and in this case, a murderer in lust for blood.

 

He turned his head slightly. Paul was right there in the left corner of the room staring at him hard. Logan thought the guy had lost his ability to blink.

 

He turned around to ignore him. But after a couple of minutes, he felt the shadow of a hulking figure poised behind him like a lumbering ton of weight.

 

“I said we ain’t done.” Paul spoke, declaring his presence.

 

Logan stood up, already pissed, “Listen here, bub. If you think your life is any worth, stay away,” he rammed shoulders with Paul to cast him aside as he left the long wooden bar.

 

“Get back here!” Paul demanded, veins nearly bursting out from his neck. “I know what you are! Your kind killed my brother!”

 

Logan paused in his tracks, stopping only to curl his hands to a fist. Nothing good ever came out of people finding out his true nature. “I’m warnin’ you if you don’t shut up, you’re gonna end up just like him.” Humans were such hypocrites; unaware that the lives they’ve lost, were only a fraction compared to the lives they’ve taken from experimenting on his kind.

 

He should know. His artificial skeleton alone was already proof.

 

“You mutants don’t deserve to live.”

 

“Yeah? How about settling that with another fight?” Logan challenged, fists clenched.

 

The man before him didn’t flinch. Instead, he raised a handgun as a response. “How about something much quicker.”

 

The next moment, several gun shots fired, reverberating around the bar. The unexpected commotion riled the people into gasps and screams as they fled the scene, stumbling over stools and tables in the process. Glasses clattered on the floor while one of the bar attendants struggled to get to the payphone.

 

Paul widened his eyes in disbelief.

 

Instead of dropping dead, Logan had only staggered from the wounds on his chest, shoulder and leg. One by one, his body started to push out the bullets embedded in his chest. The hollows they left had quickly started healing.

 

Logan looked up at Paul with a ghost of a smile. No fight could ever hurt him beyond the repair of his mutation. That was why he never backed down. It was a trademark that justified the codename engraved on his dog tags.

 

“What-what the hell are you-?” Paul stammered, taking a few steps back.

 

Logan’s metal claws sliced through his knuckles. “Wolverine.”

 

He burst into a sprint towards him. Paul fled to the door, glancing back to fire a few more shots but his trembling hold on the gun only made him miss. He yanked the knob and succeeded opening the door, but not until Logan seized his neck and plunged a claw to his leg to hinder him from escaping,

 

Paul gave a cry and held on to his leg as he lay crumpled on the floor. Blood oozed from the wound and colored the wooden tiles. Logan stood staring at his pathetic squirming and was almost tempted to rip the rest of his limbs off.

 

He was interrupted by the noise of police sirens as their vehicles pulled up by the parking lot. Through the open door, they spotted Logan and his bloodied adamantium claws pinning a poor, defenseless man on the floor. Jesus, just _why_ was he _always_ in the wrong place at the wrong time?

 

“Lose the claws, put your hands up and get down on the floor!” He heard one of them command, threatening to shoot him. The car headlights shone on him like a beacon, drawing all guns to point directly at him.

 

“What are you waiting for, huh? You’re bullet proof anyway.” Paul hissed through gritted teeth. “Kill me. That’ll show them.”

 

 _Kill._ Logan found himself frowning at the word. Being a murderer wasn’t a label he wanted. He might not have known who he was before, but he sure as hell knew what he wasn’t.

 

“I already told you.” He flexed his hands until his claws slid back in. “You’re not worth it.”

 

The police saw him shut the door, and before they even managed to barge inside, Logan was already gone.

* * *

 

 He was lucky all right.

 

Logan managed to slip from the back unnoticed. He smashed the window of the nearest truck, unlocked the bolt from the inside, and then hopped into the driver’s seat. Failing to find any keys, he released a claw and shoved it in the keyhole, successfully turning on the ignition.

 

 _Unfuckingbelievable,_ he cursed as he thrust the vehicle into gear and sped off.

 

He’d been in Laughlin City for only a few days and now he was back behind the wheel again, not to mention it was stolen. He was so pissed; he had just recently gotten himself a damn toaster to make it a lovely addition to his own truck that he has grown quite attached to. Well, at least it had been a smart decision to keep his roots out of the ground. Never knowing exactly where the conflict comes from, it was better to be flexible and prepared to decamp anything at a moment’s notice.   

 

He glanced at the rear view mirrors, checking for anyone in pursuit. He couldn’t hear any sirens but he was sure they weren’t far behind. He kept his eyes on the road.

 

He needed to keep going; far away from civilization where unflattering images of his face might show up with ransom captions in TV screens. It was still dark but he knew it was almost morning and he needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Something told him that this road trip was going to take a while. Logan felt his fingers slowly relax on the steering wheel. 

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

 

Logan whipped his head around. Still nothing showing up on his rear view mirrors, so those were definitely not sirens. But what the hell was making that noise?

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

 

The sound seemed to be coming from the glove compartment. He pushed it open and pulled out some kind of a mobile phone.

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He wasn’t sure how to make it stop. Technology evolved way faster than he could keep up with. And besides, he didn’t want anyone bothering him with this.  

 

One of the buttons were lighting up in sync with the ringtone. Logan figured maybe it would stop if he pressed it--

 

_Beep._

“Hello? Hello, oh thank god!”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Once is an anomaly. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo all my documents on my mac got wiped out and I was too exhausted to rewrite the whole thing again. It took me this long. I'm so sorry this was haphazardly put together but I hope this somehow makes up for it haha (probably not).

 

The moment Marie heard the crackle of static and dial tones indicating someone picked up, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep herself from yelping in joy.  

 

“Hello? Hello, oh thank god!”

 

 _“What the hell do you want?”_ The voice on the phone snapped irritably, sharply punctuating the static drone on the line. She was appalled at the harsh tone that replied but she crossed her fingers hoping if she got him to understand her cause, he’d help her out nevertheless.

 

“Please listen to me,” she started, knowing what she was about to say wasn’t going to be the most believable thing to tell someone a phone call. Her breath was still hitching and her sinuses were all backed up like a clogged pipe so she coughed to clear her throat, forcing her voice to sound firm. “My n-name is Anna Marie D’Ancanto and I’ve been-“

 

 _“Look, kid,”_ the man spat, already addressing the notion that she was clearly just another teenager messing around with him.   _“I’m not interested—“_

 

 “I’ve been kidnapped,” She cut him off, desperate to cut to the point. “I need your help.”

 

There was an uncomfortable silence, before the voice responded. _“Kidnapped, huh?”_ Marie could almost imagine the twisted smirk on his face as the man replied with a mocking lilt in his voice. It didn’t sound like he was going to be an eager listener, judging from his lack of concern. But she was growing desperate and her kidnappers could walk in on her at any minute. Time was already a commodity she didn’t have and every second she was about to spend convincing him was about to become wasted chances of getting out alive.

 

“I’m telling the truth. I don’t know where I am---I’m locked in an attic somewhere.” She could almost hear his mind deducing her possibly obnoxious motives as he listened silently. “Please, you have to believe me.”

 

He only blew air out of his nose and Marie could tell the person on the other end was so ready to snub her frantic pleas and drop the phone. _“Nice of your kidnappers to lend you a phone.”_

 

 “They didn’t give me a phone, no--”

 

_“Then if you’re really in trouble, kid, why don’t you call the cops and quit wasting my time?”_

 

“Please listen to me. The phone I’m on is shattered. I’ve only been clicking wires together for hours, trying to reach someone. Anyone.” Marie explained, her grip on the receiver tightening with anxiety. “Please don’t hang up. I might not get anyone else--”

 

_“Listen, I’ve already got my own problems--”_

 

“They’re going to kill me.” She was on the verge of crying, drained of vindications and because the only person she could reach was a man who could not care less about her pall of misfortune. It took every ounce of strength to not burst into tears, deciding it was better to use what was remaining of her cracking voice and hitching sighs to give a calm, solid response. “All I’m asking is ten minutes of your time for you to get to the police station.”

 

 _“Well, I can’t help you with that_ ,” He said. Marie felt her heart drop at how quick his verdict was to shrug off her desperate circumstance. _“You expect me to come knocking on the front door of the very people who're after me?”_

 

It dawned on her now. 

 

He's a fugitive. Of all the people she could’ve called.

 

~O~ 

 

Logan was appalled that this kid was pulling it this far. He didn’t know what kind of sick practical joke this was but he did not have time for this bullshit, not when he’s running for his life and it all depended on his determination to get out of there without interferences. He glanced at the long stretch of the road slowly being illuminated by the approaching sun and noticed how fast the day break was catching up in his attempt to escape the city within the night. He couldn’t afford a delay, and this woman was a dangerous risk all things considered.  Logan was about to throw the phone in an attempt to end the conversation when she stopped him with a question.

 

 _“What’s your name?”_ She asked, deflecting his immediate thought of tossing the phone out the window. _“Tell me your name.”_

 

For a while, he stayed silent, almost like his name was something he couldn’t recall and he was trying to remember the last time he heard someone ask him without the intention of throwing him to prison. People only knew him by his image inside the ring, usually accompanied by varying stage names, but that didn’t matter to anyone; only that his fighting skills were enough to cash out an entire club. His lips stalled from replying, but the answer was itching to roll out of his tongue and he wondered if it would risk his identity in any way.

 

He shifted the phone to his other ear and scoffed his response.

 

“It’s Logan.”

 

 _“Logan,”_ she repeated in bated breath, _“I know I haven’t given you reason to believe me, but I can’t prove anything to you if you won’t listen,”_ she told him and he could sense she was edging close to desperation.

 

“Look I’m sorry kid, but-“

 

 _“Logan please,”_ she quietly said in a voice that sounded like seconds from tears, _“I’ve already seen people killed before me. I don’t wuh-want to be next. I-I—“_  He almost couldn’t understand the following string of words because she gasped and hiccupped as if there was a clog stuck in her windpipe. 

 

 _“—I’m just living on borrowed time and you’re my only chance of getting out of here…”_ she pleaded.  _“…alive.”_

 

“I-“

 

Logan stopped himself before he could give a definite answer, quietly debating the issue in his head. He knew that the sensible thing to do was to put down the phone and avoid the problem altogether. He already had one psychopath wrestler and the entire police brigade on his tail. The last thing he needed was this girl tagging along in this hell of a ride. Besides, even if she were telling the truth, what could a fugitive on the run and go possibly do? He was the last person anyone on earth should run to for help.

 

He watched the road in front of him blur away as most of his concentration was suddenly fixated on how he was to respond to the situation.  

 

As he weighed the pros and cons of the situation, she spoke. _“Logan?”_

 

There was something about the way she kept repeating his name; some unexplainable appeal making him lower his guard and feel the sudden need to oblige. Since when has Logan ever done favors for complete strangers? If it didn’t benefit him on his end, chances are, those favors aren’t worth his time.

 

_“Logan? Logan, don’t go, please.”_

 

He’s not sure what came over him, but he was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to do something. An inherently familial instinct to protect something so…helpless. The sentiment is bothering him so much that there was only one way that he felt would alleviate his situation.

 

As long as he doesn’t have to take this matter to the police himself, he figured.  

 

“Let’s say you’re not screwing with me,” he growled, “And I end up actually helping you, under no circumstance are you allowed to tell anyone that you’ve talked to me.”

 

 _“I won’t!”_ She didn’t miss a beat replying. _“I promise you that.”_

God, now he really hated himself for being that idiot who jumps into the abyss of one problem after another.

 

“And the second—” Logan flinched, still reluctant in his decision but gave in anyway. “The second I give this phone to someone who can actually help you, that’ll be the last you’ll hear of me. Got it?”

 

The voice on the other end sobbed in joy. _“Y-yes, that’s all I need. I can’t thank you enough,”_ she cried.

 

“I haven’t done anything yet, kid.”

 

 _“You’ve done just enough,”_ she quietly whispers into the phone _. “Thank you.”_

 

Now _that_ twisted the thought processing gears in Logan’s head. He’d never received such an impression from anyone. Of course, he didn’t have a heart made out of stone, but he gave a somewhat similar amount of fucks a brick could towards anything that didn’t concern him. He shouldn’t really be giving this much thought to a stranger’s words, but it was just alien to him how someone can speak so softly and genuine.

 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel wary of ulterior motives. “You better not be screwing with me kid,” he warned, despite the unlikely chance. “What did you say your name was again?”

 

_“M-marie,” she whimpered. “My name’s Marie.”_

 

 _Marie._ He repeated in his head and imagined the combination of letters spooled out in front of him. It had been a while since he’d etched a name to his memory.

 

“Why’d you get kidnapped?” Logan questioned as he turned his attention back to the road. “Are you a daughter of some rich tycoon or somethin’?

 

_“N-no. We don’t even have any money.”_

 

“If you ain’t rich and it’s not ransom, what do they want with you then?”

 

For a moment, she was silent, and Logan kind of suspected she knew the horrifying reasons but decided to deny it. _“I don’t-I don’t really know. But Logan, they’ll be back any moment, please hurry.”_

 

“Alright, alright, jeeze.” If she were even acting at all, he was kind of impressed at how convincing it was.

 

Logan drove a few more kilometers at a faster pace until he caught sight of bright flickering neon lights of a gas station tucked in between the canopies of the forest around it. They were four rusty fuel pumps sprawled across the lot, and didn’t seem like it was handled with daily maintenance as the dispenser nozzles were left snaking in coils on the concrete. He wasn’t sure if this was the place to take this matter to, but he could probably find someone in there with a heart more Samaritan than he had.

 

 _“I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”_ Logan heard Marie say as he hopped off the truck.

 

“I’m not anyone you should be thanking, kid.”

 

He pushed the door open and glanced around for some kind of manager running the place at this hour. Business appeared to be down seeing the place to be devoid of both furniture and people. He spotted an elderly man slacking back on his chair, almost tipping it over except his feet up on the counter kept him on balance. 

 

“Hey would ya mind?” Logan tapped the bell, jolting him awake and sending him flying backwards. After recomposing himself, the shopkeeper rubbed his eyes and peered at his customer as if he’d never seen one up close.

 

“Uh…can I help you?”

 

“Yeah, actually. There’s a woman on the phone,” Logan produced the cellphone from his pocket, “She needs help and she needs you to ring up the police for her.”

 

“And you can’t do it because?”

 

Logan was almost tempted to use his claws in order to rush things to his favor, but decided to keep his resolve. The man already looked suspicious, so it would probably be best to remain calm and collected. 

 

“Because they won’t listen to me but a sensible guy like you oughta do the trick.”

 

There’s a look of befuddlement in the shopkeeper’s eyes, but he didn’t have a lot of options, so he reached out his hands to grab the phone. For some odd reason, Logan felt his hands try to snatch the phone back in reflex, but he kept himself in check and brought his hands back into his pockets.

 

As he watched the man intensely listening to Marie explaining her situation, he cautiously glanced around and checked the view outside the windows, hoping not to spot a party of police cars lined up. For a brief second, Logan thought that maybe he could run away right now. He could just shove this problem straight into this shopkeeper’s hands and get on with his life being chased and pursued without the extra baggage weighing him down on the long run.

 

The shopkeeper was still nodding and raising his eyebrows and giving Logan weird looks, like---knowing glances or something, but he’s not sure what. “Alright...okay…uhuh, I’ll—I’ll see what I can do,” he turned to Logan and handed him back the phone. “Hold this.” He instructed before heading upstairs to probably do whatever it is Marie asked him to.

 

Logan brought the phone up to his ear again. “Are you okay now, kid? Did he talk to you alright?” he asked. Some people would consider that as being worried and checking up on her but no, okay, it’s definitely just Logan’s professional curiosity.

 

“Y-yes. I think so. Everything’s good now I think and---" The sudden pause puts Logan's ears on alert. Something was up and it didn't look good.  That's when Marie began panicking. "Oh no, shit oh jeeze oh my god,” Marie’s voice inexplicably shifted to an apprehensive and wavering tone that completely unnerved Logan.

 

“Marie, what’s happening? Is everything okay?” He suddenly heard footsteps approaching in the background, and it escalated Marie’s breathing leagues greater. “Oh god,” she panted and he heard her clamp down the phone with jittery hands, the rubbing static indicating she was tucking the phone somewhere hidden.

 

 _“Where is he?!”_ A voice erupted, and Logan just swore a ballad of fucks to himself. This did not look good. At all.

 

 _“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—“_ He heard her hastily explain with a quivering answer.

 

_“Where the fuck is that other mutant?!”_

Logan could hear choking and rasping and it made him clench his fists in uncontrollable rage.

 

 _“Paul, put her down.”_ A softer but nonetheless undercutting voice chides, before a thud hits the floor followed by a desperate gasp for air. Logan paused for a millisecond, keenly spotting an unintentional name drop. _Paul?_

 

The noisy static was horrible, but he wasn’t mistaken. He could practically  _recognized_  that voice from anywhere. _“I’m gonna find that mutant and let her watch me kill him just like she killed my brother!”_

 

 _“Don’t hurt him!”_ Marie was begging. _“Please!”_

_“Shut the fuck up, mutant bitch.”_

That was another thing he didn’t expect to overhear.

 

Marie. A mutant? Logan just pieced the final parts of the puzzle, and it all made sense now.

 

There were too many things going on, and Logan wasn’t sure what stands out of the situation more; the fact that the woman he was talking to was one of his kind, or the insanely wild coincidence that the guy he clocked in the ring was apparently her captor. Unknowingly, this made him far more invested in her situation than he could have ever been if he weren't aware of this trivia. It’s like a switch just turned on inside of him; Paul suddenly became his common ground with Marie, and now he wanted nothing more than to punch the living daylights out of him for trying to be involved in his life a second time.

 

_“You gotta stop, big guy. He wants her alive. Do you hear me? After he’s done experimenting on her, then she’s putty in your hands.”_

 

It was silent in the background for a solid minute. Logan almost didn’t dare to breathe or cough if that meant carelessly exposing himself…especially Marie.

 

_“Fine.”_

 

The shuffle of footsteps indicated they left already, but after what seemed like forever, only then did Logan hear Marie slowly fitting the receiver again in her ear, choking and exhausted.

 

“Marie, are you alright? Kid, talk to me, are you there?” He pressed, and he didn’t even care anymore that he sounded so concerned and worried which was exactly what he avoided doing in the first place.  

 

 _“Logan, they’re gonna kill him,”_ she sobs into his ear.

 

“Who?”

 

_“B-bobby. They had both of us, but I-I don’t know where he is now. They took him away but it’s too late-”_

 

“Look, Marie. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna get help, alright? There’s help coming.” Logan knew he had neither the authority nor the judgment to predict what would happen, not when his own safety is on the line. But he didn’t care if he knew it comforted her in any way.

 

“It’s gonna be alright, kid, okay? I’m gonna-“

 

Something interrupts him, and now it comes in the form of an astonishing streak of consistent bad luck, because Logan is revisited yet again by what appeared to be vague, but vividly distinct noises of police sirens ringing aloud in his ears. How the hell did they find him--

 

He froze, the revelation of betrayal unfolding right in front of him. The innocent looking shopkeeper sauntered down the staircase, feigning surprise when Logan called him out on his crime.

 

“You fucker,” Logan spat. “You called them here?!”

 

“I know the smell of mutants when I see ‘em,” he retorted with a sneer. “Plus, the woman on the phone gave your name, huh? ‘Logan’. I knew that fucking face of yours was familiar.”

 

 _“Logan!”_ Marie quipped from the phone. _“I’m sorry, it wasn't---I didn’t mean to—“_

The shopkeeper pulled a gun from his hip. Logan immediately thought how it’s such an unfair and fucking annoying coincidence that everyone who harbored anger and hatred towards him just happened to own a fucking gun. “Game’s over, you beast. You can hand the phone over. I’m sure the cops’ll help her out after she just turned you in.”

 

Logan didn’t move.

 

The world, as he was reminded of once again, was just a plain succession of disappointments. Trust collapsed as easily as a receding trail of dominoes, and built as fragile as a house of cards. He can’t talk to a single soul without rendering himself vulnerable to demise, and the one time he offers a move to help someone, the universe still decides to pull a checkmate on his stand.

 

He’s gone this far to help Marie and logically, this should be the end of the line. He’s done enough favors to earn a reprieve himself from all this bullshit.

 

And yet, he wasn’t planning on giving her away. Not to them. Not to those human assholes.

 

“Marie, are you listening?” He whispered, mouth unnoticeably moving. She made a sound that affirmed she was. At this, Logan took a deep breath to ready himself for indulging in what might possibly be the most impulsive split second decision he has ever made. “I’m gonna find you myself.”

 

Before the shopkeeper could pull the trigger, Logan erupted into mad dash towards him and grabbed his arm holding the gun to level his aim at the ceiling, producing a gun shot that burst through the roof. Disarming him in the process, Logan fluidly snatched the gun and tucked it under his belt. The man didn’t even put up a fight, seeing it only took him one blow to get conked out. He scoffed at his disheveled challenger. “If you’re gonna pick a side, at least choose one that stands a chance.”

 

Once again, before the police managed to arrive on the scene, Logan was already gone. And he had brought Marie with him.

 

He made a pretty rough escape because there was a loud clash of things in the back of the truck that probably broke in his haste to leave. But he wasn’t about to go check what sort of stuff he ruined back there. For the meantime, he wasn’t planning on making detours anymore. Detours apparently lengthen the journey instead of truncating the stretch for him. But he didn’t care anymore. If he were to help Marie, there was no one he could absolutely trust but himself.

 

_“Logan?”_

He didn’t even realize how long they haven’t talked ever since his narrow escape. He’s sort of just unconsciously holding the phone to his ear, all senses directed to being alert for any signs of military pursuit.

 

Logan cleared his throat to answer her. “Yeah?”

 

“ _Why are you still helping me?”_

 

Even though she’s inculcated the question so much, the answer still remains an enigma to him; that he has strong overwhelming need to protect her. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

 

“Because I’m just like you, kid,” He told her instead. “I’m a mutant.”

 

Marie sighed into his words, not even surprised that they both belonged to a class of outcasts and pariahs. _“Why does everyone want to kill us?”_

 

He knew the answer to that all too well. “They’re scared of us. They’re scared of what we can do to them.”  He explained simply, and it was true. Fear corrals people into a mass of angry mobs desperate to kill off anything remotely threatening. They lose their humanity in the process, even when it’s exactly what they’re fighting to keep in the first place.

 

 _“Logan,”_ she breathed, completely exhausted. _“I’m scared.”_

 

“Listen to me, Marie. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” He assured her, in what basically constitutes as the sincerest thing he’s ever said today, probably ever. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

 _“You promise?”_ She asked wistfully, and if it offered her a tiny sliver of hope, Logan was more than willing to give that. 

 

“Yeah,” he said without missing a beat. “Yeah, I promise.”

 

Logan thought it was stupid how prepared he was to make that one commitment he’s never ever given to anyone before. And yet, he had never been so sure of anything in his life.

 

So much that he didn’t even notice that his foggy breath indicated an unusually sudden drop in temperature coming from the back of the truck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)


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